


A Day In The Death

by notmanos



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dean as Death, Figure Out Your Feelings Already
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-06
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 06:18:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4511076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmanos/pseuds/notmanos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow up to  the story Supernatural: The End. Before Dean and Castiel leave to take care of an old threat to Earth, Dean ends up running into old friends (and others), who are surprised or concerned with his new existence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If Death Ever Slept

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, if you haven't read Supernatural: The End, none of this will make any sense.

_** 1-If Death Ever Slept ** _

“This is proof you’re rigging the game,” Bobby said, laying his cards on the table. “Aces and eights. Dead man’s hand.”

Dean shook his head, throwing his garbage cards on the table. Well, a pair of Kings was usually decent, but not against two pairs. “I swear that’s just a coincidence. I don’t know how to manipulate cards.”

“Says the pool shark.” Bobby swept the pot of gold galleons towards him. Hey, they were in Heaven, and money meant nothing here, so they could play for whatever they wanted. One night, they decided to bet with diamonds, just for shits and giggles.

Dean took a gulp from his beer bottle, and looked around Bobby’s house. It was still kind of unkempt, still dusty, with books piled everywhere, and the occasional liquor bottle where you least expected it. Since this was Bobby’s idea of heaven, it could have been neater, but that wasn’t the way he wanted it. And Dean totally got that, because just stepping inside this reality, he felt like he was home. Home was not perfect, but it was yours. 

He and Bobby regularly met for poker games, or to just sit and drink. Bobby had always been like a father to him, more than his actual father, who was a bit more like a squad leader. Dean liked these moments with Bobby, because it made him feel human again, in a good way. 

Bobby gathered the cards back into a deck and started shuffling them, staring at Dean warily. “I’ve been looking through my books here, tryin’ to find out if there’s any way to reverse the whole Ascension process. If there is, the angels have conveniently erased it. Maybe you should ask Sam if he can find anything.”

Dean gave Bobby a faint smile. “I’ve told you, I don’t want to reverse it, even if it’s possible. I’m okay.”

“You’re okay?” Bobby sat forward, giving him a look that Dean had seen a million times before. It was the one that said if Bobby was a more violent guy, he’d totally have hit Dean with his hat. “You’re the fucking angel of death, Dean. You’re not Human anymore. That’s insane.”

He considered that, holding his beer bottle, which was always perfectly cold. Another Heaven perk. “I think Cass must still have the training wheels on me, ‘cause it hasn’t been bad at all. I have to admit, the whole teleportation thing is a whole buttload of fun.” That was true. Dean sort of expected that he would loathe this job, taking over as the Horseman of Death, but it wasn’t as horrible as he thought it would be. And of course, he could totally kick the ass of everything, because who killed Death? Except him. He was just hoping another moron wouldn’t make a try for it. 

Bobby sighed heavily, shaking his head. “You fucked up killing Death, I get that, but that’s no reason to put this all on you. You had the weight of the world on your shoulders when you were Human. You shouldn’t have the weight of the universe on your shoulders in death. It’s not fair, kid.” 

Now Dean sighed, because it wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. And he appreciated that Bobby was worried for him, but who robbed the universe of Death? He did, and he had to make up for that massive fuck up. Plus, Sam’s worry that he wouldn’t be himself hadn’t come to pass. Cass kept his promise, and Dean was still Dean … just a new, improved, extra lethal variety. “Bobby –“

“Don’t give me that same old shit. Are you really telling me you don’t miss Earth?”

“I don’t, actually, ‘cause I’m there so much.”

He scowled at him. “You know what I mean, idjit.”

“Yeah, but –“ Dean stopped, as he suddenly heard Hannah’s voice inside his head. 

“Dean, please come to my office immediately.”

Dean must have canted his head without realizing it, because Bobby squinted at him. “Angel radio?”

He nodded, getting up from the table. “Hannah needs me for some reason.”

“See? Now you have a boss. Doesn’t that suck?”

Dean shrugged. “I can ignore her. She’s only my boss as long as I play along. I’m Death. What’s she going to do to me if I play hooky?” And to be fair, he was kind of driving her crazy. All his unscheduled visits to Earth, mainly to kill monsters, was apparently bad form. But it hadn’t stopped him yet. 

Bobby shook his head, frowning, still disapproving of all of this. But he also said, “Take care of yourself, Dean.”

“Always do,” he assured him, putting the beer bottle down. He then turned, and took a single step, moving from Bobby’s heaven to Hannah’s office in that one movement. See? That teleportation thing was fucking awesome.

Hannah’s office was essentially made of ice. It was all blue-white, and genuinely frozen water. Dean put his hand on her desk, and felt it. But it held together and never melted, because this was Heaven, and it played by its own set of physical laws. 

He did like her. She was an angel, sure, but she was trying to incorporate some emotion in this otherwise Vulcan place, and he knew she was taking shit for it from angels who preferred the standing status quo. Those were the same angels who hated him for daring to be a former Human and in their rarefied air, and hated Cass, for seeing him through the whole Ascension thing. So it was just like Earth, in that he was hated by a lot of people who were supposedly on the same side. Nice to know some things never changed. 

She looked up from her desk, and gave him a faint smile. Because he had all these new senses as Death, he knew that she was a little off put by him at times. And he didn’t blame her either, ‘cause what the fuck? Making him an Angel of Death seemed like a horrible idea, both on paper and in actuality. But if Cass was to be believed, that hadn’t been her call. That one was made way above her pay grade. “Dean, I was wondering if you’d like to accompany Castiel on an inter-dimensional trip tomorrow.”

“Where? And why?”

“I don’t know how much information you have on when the Earth was initially tamed, but many particularly dangerous gods were exiled to their own dimensions, so they wouldn’t hurt or prey upon Humans. We have it on very good authority some of them are going to try and breach it. They’ve done it before, and we always fought them back, but Castiel was of the opinion that the two of you could go over there and take care of it before they even transgressed the dimensional barrier.”

When he “Ascended” to his Angel of Death position, a lot of information was dumped in his head. Too much for him to actually make sense of without going crazy. But Cass saved his bacon there too, as he put up these partitions. Not walls, as these were far more porous. It just kept information at a remove until he needed it. Dean suddenly just had this data now, and could scan through it like it was a boring book. This was a semi-regular thing; those gods gave it a shot every couple of hundred years or so, and failed every time, although not without a little destruction and loss of life. “What, like a behind enemy lines sabotage mission?”

She considered that a moment. “In a way. He thought just the two of you could do it.”

Dean nodded. “Probably can. Sure, count me in.”

“Thank you. I know you two have been fighting together for some time. It should make it easier.”

It was then that an alert popped up in Dean’s mind. Just like it was hard to process all that information at once, it was difficult to process so much death at once. He’d been learning to filter it, with Cass’s help, and he’d mentally shuffled things so any deaths happening ahead of their supposedly “allotted” time jumped to the forefront of his consciousness. It was usually due to monsters or demons, or an occasional god. In other words, asshats. And someone just showed up twenty two years early: Reverend John Jeffers Ivanov. Okay, time to investigate.

The best thing about dealing with angels? You didn’t have to make an excuse or say goodbye; you just left the fucking room. It wasn’t considered rude. Small talk and basic courtesy was apparently a Human construct, and it hadn’t exactly made its way to Heaven yet. Which was great with Dean, because he got to just get the fuck out when he was done dealing with them. 

So he stepped from Hannah’s office to where Ivanov had just died on Earth, which was on a road just outside of Meridian, Texas. Apparently he was tailgating a container truck that rather inexplicably lost part of its load, and Ivanov and the front of his car were crushed by a pallet load of … dildos? Yep, that’s what it indeed looked like. 

The cops were still there, interviewing the truck driver, who was at all a loss to explain how the back door of his truck opened by itself, and how this particular crate of goods worked its way to the back, and flew out, crushing the car. Weirdly enough, the cops were sympathetic, perhaps because the whole thing didn’t make sense. It seemed like a bad joke.

Which is how Dean knew who was responsible, even before he caught the trace of archangel energy. Damn it, he just wouldn’t die, would he?

“Holy shit snacks, it’s true,” Gabriel said, appearing in the center of the road. Nobody saw them, because in this mode, only angels could see one another. “Somebody went crazy and made you the Angel of Death. Congratulations, I think? Or I’m sorry. Take your pick.”

Dean sighed. “You just never die, do you?”

“Nope. You’d know a thing or two about that, wouldn’t you?”

Dean couldn’t kill angels. Angels weren’t in his purview. Which was a shame, especially now. He pointed at the car buried beneath the crate of dildos. “What the hell was this about?”

Gabriel scowled in disgust, and it seemed genuine. “Do you know what this sick fuck was doing to kids? I mean, I intended to torment him ironically, ‘cause he’s one of those firebrand extremist preachers who talks out his own ass and pretends to know what the will of God is. I really can’t stand those idiots. But then I found out what he was actually doing. I know they’re all hypocrites, but every now and again, you come across one that is genuinely evil. Such as this dildo killed by dildos.”

“You could be making that up.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow at that. “You should be able to tell if I’m lying or not.”

He was right. And as far as Dean could tell, he was being honest. That was just nauseating. Well, Gabriel was a hundred percent right to kill this asshole. If he hadn’t, Dean would have come down and personally taken care of this perv himself. “Okay, yeah.” There was blood and radiator fluid leaking from the car, and it had formed into a huge, swirling red puddle. It looked like the car itself was losing blood. “Shoulda just told me, I’d have ganked him myself.”

Gabriel smiled, like he’d just passed a test. “Already you’re more reasonable than the last guy. Still, shame you went and killed him.”

Dean could only shrug. It didn’t matter now.

“So it’s true that Cass has joined me in the VIP section?”

Gabriel was one of the few Archangels left. And now Cass was one too. Dean nodded. “Half of the angels hate him for pushing me through Ascension, but apparently someone higher up approved of it enough to give him a new set of wings.”

Gabriel shook his head. “It wasn’t that. You know what it was, right?” He peered at him closely. “Oh shit, you don’t.”

“What are you going on about now?”

Gabriel shook his head slowly, like he didn’t understand how Dean could be so dumb. He’d been on the receiving end of that before. “Our Dad – when he was around, and when I knew him – was kind of a sucker for a good love story. You do know that the second Cass stepped into the Ascension chamber, he was dead, right? The only way out is through Ascension or death, and he wasn’t trying to Ascend. He went in there only to selflessly protect you. The second he stepped through that door, he was gone.”

Dean could easily recall how sad Hannah had been when Cass said he was going in with him. At the time, Dean thought it seemed like everybody was worried this was a death sentence for Cass. Cass insisted it wasn’t. And he was lying to him, so he didn’t feel guilty. Son of a bitch. Cass always knew his volunteering to see him through Ascension meant his death, regardless of whether Dean survived or not. “Goddamn it. If I had known that I wouldn’t have gone ahead with it.”

“Maybe. But the reason Cass is back in new super Cass form is probably because dear old Dad was touched. An angel so in love with a Human he’s willing to trade his life for his is one of those super rare things, like a unicorn with table manners. And Dad could hardly bump Cass up into the Archangel of Love without the Human he was willing to die for still on the board. So your Ascension was probably the flukiest of fluky things, Dean. It probably wasn’t even personal. You aren’t Death because you’re so bad ass, but because someone actually loved your stupid ass.” Gabriel took a single step, and suddenly he was right in front of him. “Honestly, I don’t know how you got so lucky as to gain so much of Cass’s affection. I mean, sure, you’re pretty, for a meathead, but the personality –“ he just sighed and shook his head. “I mean, you’re well suited to Angel of Death, if that’s any consolation.”

Dean was kind of surprised by this, and kind of not. It wasn’t that he didn’t know Cass’s friendship with him was weird in several respects, especially since angels were generally as friendly as cacti full of brown recluse spiders. But love was kind of an overstatement, wasn’t it? Or maybe not. He really wasn’t sure. Cass turned out to be the best friend he ever had, which was something he could never have guessed or predicted when he first met him. They always had a weird bond; even when Cass went power hungry and crazy, Dean always thought he could reach him somehow. He didn’t know what to say, or what Gabriel expected him to say.

As it turned out, Gabriel didn’t expect him to say anything. “Castiel is my weird little brother. I don’t understand him at all. I mean, clearly. He’s way out of your league. But understand, if you ever hurt him or fail him in any way, I will fucking destroy you. So you be worthy of him, Dead Boy, or you’re answering to me. We clear?”

A weird threat. Even an Archangel couldn’t kill Death, right? But it wasn’t just that. Dean realized he found it bizarre to think he’d ever hurt Cass. (Again.) “Clear.” He paused, as something new occurred to him, and it was startling to think. “Hey, does this mean we’re brothers now, you and I? I am technically an angel.”

Gabriel’s face scrunched in disgust. “No! You’re just … like a weird in-law. And let’s get one thing straight: you are never borrowing my beach house.” With that puzzling statement, Gabriel pointed at his own eyes, and then pointed at Dean, a tacit “I’m watching you”. Then he took a step back, and teleported elsewhere. 

“Thanks for making it weird, dickhead!” he shouted after him. 

Dean had really been hoping he was dead. Apparently some Archangels were harder to kill than others. And it just figured one of the most annoying ones would still be alive. 


	2. Dumb Luck

_**2 – Dumb Luck** _

 

 

Luckily for Dean, Sam was sleeping.

 

Oh sure, the first time walked into one of his brother’s dreams was beyond bizarre, and truth be told, he didn’t want to know what Sammy dreamed about. But so far, he hadn’t walked into anything really embarrassing. Just weird. But Cass always told him the subconscious was not only strange, but stranger than most dreamers ever realized. The brain constructed narratives even when narratives couldn’t work. What seemed reasonably linear to the dreamer was in fact a completely chaotic mess that made surrealistic artwork seem totally reasonable.

 

Which was probably why the dream that Sam was currently having had Sam building a house of cards on the back deck of a cabin Dean had never seen before, one overlooking a steep waterfall that seemed to feed directly into the ocean. It was pretty, and fairly impossible, but why that let a good view? Also, since when did Sam build houses of cards? Especially Tarot cards, although their larger size probably made the building easier. “Hey Sam,” he said, walking up to the deck.

 

“Hey,” he said, without looking up from placing the next level of cards. Sam seemed hard at work at this, and Dean bet if he asked him, he wouldn’t know why. Dreams were so fucking weird.

 

Dean sat down on the deck, and made a beer appear in his hand. “Just thought you’d like to know, I’ve confirmed Gabriel is alive.”

 

Sam groaned, finally looking away from his card house. “Yeah, I figured him being actually dead was too much to ask. Is he up to his same old trickster shit?”

 

“Kind of, but I’m letting him slide on this latest one. It was deserved.” He didn’t know how to segue into the question he wanted to ask, so Dean just went ahead and did it bluntly. “Can I ask you a weird question?”

 

Sam smirked. “You rarely ask any other kind.” He was flipping a Tarot card in his hand, the next card in the wall. Dean noted it was the Fool card.

 

“Do you think … does Cass … love me?”

 

He nodded. “Totally.”

 

“You didn’t even think about it.”

 

He scoffed. “Don’t have to. Ask me if the sky is blue next.”

 

“It’s that obvious?”

 

“Dude, you’re not being serious, are you?” Sam studied him a moment, and then sat back, surprised. “Oh shit, you are.”

 

“How does everyone know this but me?”

 

Sam shook his head, turning back to his cards. He balanced the next one carefully, and it managed to stay up, even though one of the sides was sloping and really should have fallen down. But dream logic had its own gravity. “You don’t want to know it, that’s why. Just like you don’t want to know you love him too.”

 

“What? No! I don’t swing that way and you know it.”

  
He rolled his eyes. “There’s different kinds of love, Dean. And you and Cass are the weirdest soulmates I have ever met. It’s one of those things that proves the universe can be a weird and wonderful place.”

 

Dean couldn’t believe he was hearing this. Sure, Sam liked to wind him up now and again, but not usually in dreamscapes, when Dean could sense when he was being truthful or not. And he was being perfectly truthful, which was kind of disturbing. “He is not my soulmate.”

 

“Yeah, whatever.”

 

“How is he exactly? He’s a social awkward angel, and seemingly male.”

 

“And you’re a hunter who never really felt that comfortable around people. You both view Humans as a different species from yourselves, for one.”

 

Dean slammed his beer bottle down. “That’s bullshit. I knew I was Human. When I was Human.”

 

Sam’s eyes met his again. “But you always thought other people were better than you. That they could be saved where you couldn’t be. You felt better with monsters and demons, because the rules were clearly established, and you knew what you were fighting for. Other Humans just reminded you of everything you couldn’t and wouldn’t have.”

 

This was like a gut punch. How did Sam know him that well? He thought he hid it all.

 

“I get it,” Sam continued. “I was the freak boy with psychic powers, remember? I know the feeling. I just never knew why you thought of yourself as a freak when you weren’t really. Sometimes I wondered if you just did that so I wouldn’t be alone. Freak boy and his freak brother.”

 

“You’re not a freak,” Dean said automatically. Okay, yeah, when Sam’s psychic stuff started happening in earnest, he sometimes thought of him that way. But he’d be damned if he was going to admit that now.

 

Sam gave him a faint, pained smile. “It’s okay. I’m past it. We’re Winchesters; we’re doomed to always be a little freaky. Think about it, Dean. Be honest with yourself. You love Cass like a brother, right? That’s still love.”

 

“But … where are you getting this? I –“

 

“You kept his trenchcoat.”

 

“What?”

 

“After we thought the Leviathans had torn him to pieces. You got his trenchcoat. You folded it up neatly and put it in the trunk. It was back there for months, Dean. Months. Sometimes when we were getting weapons out, I saw you look at it, and get so angry and so sad. You channeled it all into rage, because that was easier to excuse than grief. But I knew how much it hurt you to lose him. I was with you every day. And as much as you tried to hide it or drink it away, I saw it. You grieved as hard for him as you did for Bobby, except you put your grief about Bobby right out in the open.” Sam took another card off the top of the deck. This time it was The Sun. “You can lie to yourself all you want, but you can’t lie to me. Not like you think you can.”

 

Dean wanted to deny this, and almost did, but he was right. He wasn’t quite ready to admit that, though. “So you’re basing this whole hypothesis on the one thing?”

 

He chuckled. “Hardly. That’s the most obvious example.”

 

“What about Cass? When did you first figure out he … loved me or whatever?”

 

Sam didn’t have to think about this either. Dean found it difficult to believe he’d been quite that clueless. “Remember when we met Jimmy?”

 

“Cass’s vessel?”

 

“Yeah. Cass was taken upstairs for punishment and a stern talking to. Why was he risking expulsion and death? To help us? Why? The only thing that ever made sense to me was he wanted to protect you, at any cost. He was willing to break with Heaven for you, and more than once. I mean, that’s …. Shit, Dean. I wished anybody ever loved me that much.”

 

At least Dean felt he had a counter for this one. “He didn’t want the apocalypse to happen. He didn’t want to see humanity die.”

 

Sam nodded, and pulled out another card to add to the third story of the card house. It was The Fool again. Wasn’t there only one of each card in a Tarot deck? “Yes, But there was one particular person he didn’t want to see die. And it wasn’t me.” Sam met his gaze again. “C’mon, Dean. You’re not that dumb. I realize you’d rather pretend not to notice it, but you must have. You know by now. Cass has broken the rules for you too many times.”

 

He sighed, and took a large gulp of his beer. Sam was making sense, which was the entire problem. And yeah, in hindsight, maybe it was a little obvious. But still … love? Weird. He was also pretty sure angels weren’t capable of it, although that was probably what Gabriel’s point about a unicorn with table manners was all about. Damn it. After a long minute, he said, somewhat petulantly, “I still don’t see why you call us soulmates.”

 

Sam chuckled faintly. It looked like he was turning the third floor of the card house into a gravity defying steeple. “Because you make no sense together logically, and then the two of you work together, and it’s obvious it’s meant to be. You’re both strong in the other’s weak place. He makes you more Human; you make him more Human. You’re two broken pieces that together make a wicked whole. And don’t make a joke about that, Dean. I’m serious.”

 

Yeah, he could see that. And Dean could also see that his little brother was a lot more observant than he ever gave him credit for. “So all those demons and other angels sarcastically calling him my boyfriend weren’t being sarcastic at all, were they?”

 

“Not really. Cass wears his heart on his sleeve when it comes to you. Well, as much as an angel possibly could.”

 

“Shit. Now I feel kind of dirty.”

 

Sam shook his head, and balanced a card precariously on top of the steeple. It shouldn’t have stayed up, but it did. Also, it was The Wheel of Fortune. “Get over yourself. Do you really think I would have trusted Cass to help you through Ascension if I didn’t know he loved you as much as he did? He’d die for you, Dean. He almost did. I knew he would die before he let you be hurt.”

 

“You know that whole thing about you being the brains of the operation? That was supposed to be a joke.”

 

Sam smiled triumphantly. “Joke’s on you.”

 

Dean nodded. Clearly that was true. “So how are things in your neck of the woods?”

 

He shrugged, pulling out a lighter. For some reason, Sam lit the house of cards on fire. “Good. I’ve … umm … I’ve done something kind of weird.”

 

“What? Finally met the right llama and settle down?” He grinned at him. Never got old teasing Sammy.

 

He rolled his eyes in disgust. “No. I … sold a short story. Horror story. It’s fact, but I dressed it up as fiction, and this place bought it. So I’m writing a novel. I’m gonna see how that goes.”

 

“No shit?” Dean reached over, and gave him an encouraging slap on the shoulder. Dean had to be careful, as the cards were going up like a pile of kerosene soaked rags. “Good for you, Sammy. You had that teacher who told you you could be a writer, right?”

 

“Yeah. And since I’ve pretty much left the Bunker to Charlie now, I figured what the hell, you know? I needed to do something with my time, since bartending isn’t exactly a stimulating intellectual challenge.”

 

Dean was actually glad to hear this. Not that Sam was working a boring day job, but that he was trying to have a life outside of hunting. He always wanted one, and he gave it a few stabs, but maybe without Dean around, it had a chance of taking. Dean had been hoping that would happen. That was really what he wanted out of the whole becoming death thing. Fixing the universe he broke, and giving Sammy a chance at a normal life. Or as normal as it was possible for a Winchester to have. Dean caught a name running through Sam’s head, and smiled. “Ooh, who’s Melanie?”

 

Sam grimaced and looked away as the card house collapsed into a pile of smoldering ashes. “Don’t make a big deal about it, okay? We’ve only been on a couple dates.”

 

“She cute?” Sam shook his head, but it was mostly mock disapproval. “You like her?”

 

“I do, although I met her on the old job.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yeah, she moved into this haunted apartment, and Charlie and I took care of the ghost. One night, just by chance, she and a friend of hers came into the bar where I work now, and we started talking. I don’t know. She’s pretty cool with all the weirdness, considering.”

 

“That’s a good thing. You told her your brother’s the Angel of Death yet?”

 

Sam gave him a withering look that Dean discovered he had missed, strangely enough. “I think I should save that for the engagement, don’t you?”

 

“Hey, I could drop in for dinner. Blow out all your windows, kill every plant in the vicinity. Do you have a dog yet? You might want to put it in another room when I’m over, ‘cause I might accidentally kill it.”

 

Sam gave him an evil look, but he was smiling too. “You’re always welcome, Dean. Just give me a warning, okay?”

 

“Sure.” Dean stood up, and realized the ashes formed a pattern on the deck. It looked like a pile of fallen leaves, or maybe feathers. It was a little too clear to be coincidence, but it probably didn’t mean anything. Dreams were weird. “Remember, shout if you ever need me.”

 

Sam stood, brushing ashes off his legs. “I will. Don’t be a stranger.” Sam came in for a goodbye hug, and Dean was happy to let him. He was so glad Sam had moved on with his life, he was just sorry he had to be gone for such a thing to happen. Family was such a weird thing. It was comforting, but those ties that bound could just as easily choke.

 

Dean let him have about thirty seconds before patting him on the back and holding him at arm’s length. “You better dedicate your first novel to me, boy.”

 

Sam smiled. “Okay, but you’re in it. Well, fictionalized you.”

 

He wasn’t surprised. “What’s my name?”

 

“Daryl.”

 

He glared at him. “I am no fucking Daryl. Change it.”

 

Sam held up his hands in mock surrender, still smiling. “Okay, I’ll think of something else.”

 

“You better, or I’m paying you a visit unannounced.” It was an empty threat, and Sam probably knew that.

 

Dean then stepped out of Sam’s dream, and back into Heaven’s endless corridors, wondering if he should finally pay a visit to a person he’d been avoiding for a very long time. Maybe he’d had enough personal growth for the day.

 

Or maybe he should just go back and have a drink with Bobby. Actually, that sounded fantastic right now.


	3. Flesh World

_** 3 – Flesh World ** _

Dean had been in Heaven maybe thirty seconds – he hadn’t even reached Bobby’s yet – when he was summoned away. 

Not a lot of people could summon him, so he took it as bad news. He didn’t think it was Sam, since he’d just left him and he was still asleep, but you never knew. Charlie had summoned him once, when she and Sam were attacked by Pestilence, but that situation had been particularly dire for them.

So Dean was really surprised to find himself in Hell’s throne room, Crowley standing just outside the summoning circle. “Hello Dean,” he said casually, wandering over to his bar. “Drink?”

“Sure,” he agreed, stepping outside the circle. It called him, but it didn’t bind him. Binding him was more difficult than trapping any other angel. Even holy oil didn’t work on him. Being Death had its perks. “What do you want?”

“What, no good to see you, Crowley? You look terrific,” he replied, pouring two glasses of scotch. Crowley held one out to him, and he took it. Since Dean was dead, alcohol really had no effect on him, which was a bummer, but also he couldn’t be poisoned, so he didn’t have to worry about that either. 

“You didn’t just summon me to waste my time, did you?”

Crowley gave him one of his knowing looks as he stalked back to his throne. “You’re very bad for business, you know that?” He settled back in his ridiculous chair, and swirled his scotch in his glass. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry about that. That just made my day.” He took a swig of the booze. Crowley always had the good stuff. One of those King of Hell perks. 

Crowley didn’t look amused, which he kind of expected. “I thought you weren’t supposed to come to Earth and hunt. I don’t mind you taking out vampires or other trash like that, but when you start interfering with my demons, we have a problem.”

It took Dean a moment, but he understood what Crowley was getting at. “This is about Detroit.”

“Goddamn right this is about Detroit. You killed one of my top men.”

“That piece of shit?” Dean shook his head. “If he stuck to doing his job for you, I wouldn’t have had a problem with it. Well, I would have, but no more than usual. But he was a fucking psycho.”

“One diner waitress makes him a psycho?”

“Yeah, it does. I told you, Crowley, keep your people in check.”

Crowley ’s eyes narrowed. “Heaven’s not crazy about your extra-curricular activities either. You’re ruffling feathers.”

Dean shrugged. “It’s what I’m good at.”

“Heaven made you Death. They can replace you, you know.” Crowley took a sip of his scotch, and looked appropriately devilish. 

“They can. But they won’t. They certainly aren’t going to can my ass for killing a few demons.”

Crowley smirked, assuming his usual superior attitude. “That isn’t the point, Dean. They’ve had their share of rebellious angels, and I’ve heard the higher ups really have their knickers in a twist over the fact that Death is almost out of their control. You are playing with fire, and I’m not sure your Archangel boyfriend is enough to save you if it all goes wrong.”

Again with the boyfriend reference. But he let it roll off his back, because he knew when Crowley was angling for something. “Why are you telling me this?” 

Crowley decided to pretend to be coy, sipping his scotch and buying time. Finally, he made his point. “Death is supposed to be a neutral element, not one owned by one side over another. If those featherheads start giving you grief … I’m sure we could work out a deal.”

Dean snickered, impressed by his gall as always. “You summoned me here to make a deal?”

“Not at all. We haven’t always been enemies, Dean, and we don’t have to be now. If the angels … sour on you, there’s always a place for you in Hell.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are. That’s the funniest thing about this.”

He raised an eyebrow, exuding his usual cocksure attitude. “You won’t feel that way when the angels turn on you. And they will turn on you once you refuse to fall in line. Castiel won’t be enough to protect you.”

Dean nodded and gave him a tight, sour sneer. “Let me guess. You will be.”

Crowley gave him one of his small, superior smiles, the kind that Dean always wanted to smash in with his fist until teeth fell out. “If Heaven could take me out, they would’ve done so by now. Just remember, my door is always open to you, in spite of your … obstinacy.”

“Uh huh. String free, I’m sure.”

“Well, it’s always a good thing to have Death in your corner. But, Castiel is –“

“Package deal. If I ever need your goddamn help, Cass is included. Get me?” That was just automatic. He didn’t leave him behind in Purgatory, and if the unthinkable happened and Heaven tried to go martial law on his ass, he wasn’t going to leave him behind in Heaven either. No matter his feelings, whatever they were, he was his best friend and part of his family. Full stop. Dean didn’t leave family behind. 

Crowley rolled his eyes, but then deigned to nod. “An Archangel and Death in Hell’s corner would be quite a coup. The egg on Heaven’s face if that ever happened.”

“This is all theoretical. They’re not going to throw me under the bus, Crowley.”

“You hope. The Four Horsemen started out as angels, but things went wrong.”

“They sided with Lucifer.”

He dipped his head. “Most of them. I believe Death did his own thing. He never really seemed to pick a side. But when you’re Death, you hardly need to, do you?” Crowley met his gaze, having made his point. 

Dean gulped down the rest of his scotch, put the glass on a nearby table, and took a step back into Heaven. 

That was unsettling. He really didn’t like Crowley trying to get under his skin, and this wasn’t the first time. When Dean first became Death, and made a few warning threats against Crowley and his demons, he was furious with him. Once word got out that he was also hunting rogue demons on Earth, they started getting scared, and according to Sam, demon incidents dropped way down. Apparently being hunted by something that could kill them with a mere thought bothered them. But Crowley was quick to anger, and usually calmed down with time, and that’s when he got deadly. Once his brain kicked in, you were in trouble. Crowley wasn’t the King of Hell because he was the strongest or most vicious demon, but because he was the cleverest. He could make just about anyone sell their soul, given enough time. 

Dean realized where he was in Heaven, and knew his subconscious was pushing him to do this. He’d feared it as soon as he found out she was actually here. He wanted to see her – of course he did! – but he was so scared. What would she say about his new life? Dean had this sinking feeling he’d disappoint her so much he wouldn’t be able to bear it. But he supposed if he didn’t face her now, he’d never do it. So he took a deep breath, steeled himself, and walked into her Heaven.

It was the house he grew up in, until the night Azazel attacked. It was exactly like he remembered, and yet also somewhat new, as his memories had faded with time. It smelled the same, though. Funny how that came through. 

He stood in the kitchen, paralyzed with indecision – should he continue? Should he just bail while he still could? – when she came in, stopping in shock the second she saw him. To his surprise, he didn’t need to tell her who he was. “Dean?” 

Suddenly his throat felt clogged, and he found tears welling in his eyes. Which was bullshit, because death didn’t cry. “Hi Mom.”

She engulfed him in a big hug, and he hugged her back fiercely, finding the tears coming even though he kept trying to fight them back. He had no idea how long they were this way, but he had a couple of chances to wipe the tears from his eyes. 

Finally she held him back at arm’s length. “Look at you,” she said, doing just that. Then she frowned, troubled. “Honey, why are you here? Are you ..?” 

She didn’t need to finish that question. “Yes and no.”

Her brow furrowed. “What?”

How did he even begin to explain this? “You know how you used to tell me angels were watching over me? Well, funny story: that was kind of true.”

They sat at the kitchen table, and he told her all of it. She offered him tea, and he took it, because it was his mother offering it to him, but he didn’t drink it. It was comforting to hold on to the cup, though. 

Mom was horrified at the parts he thought she would be horrified at, and by the time he told her about becoming the new Angel of Death, she had his hand sandwiched between hers, squeezing it tight. “Oh honey,” she said when he was done. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, I did. I broke it. I had to fix it.”

“That’s too much for one person to take on.”

“Believe it or not, I’m doing okay. I keep waiting for that to change, but so far, so good.” Of course, he was sure Cass was responsible for a great deal of that. Did he tell his mother an angel was in love with him? He decided to skip that. If he didn’t understand why Cass would love somebody like him, he had no hope of explaining it to anyone else. 

Dean was surprised when the kitchen door opened, and his Dad came in. It was hard to say who was more shocked, although his Dad broke first. “Dean? Boy, what the hell are you doing here?”

Dean’s stomach twisted. He should have guessed, shouldn’t he? After his Dad escaped the gates of Hell, he disappeared, and as far as Dean knew, Hell didn’t get him back. Where else could he have gone? “Holy shit.I – I really should have known you were here. I don’t know why I didn’t.”

He stood up and hugged his Dad, not nearly as overwhelmed with emotions as he had been when he hugged his Mom. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his Dad, because of course he did, but with hindsight, he had some mixed feelings about him. Dean now realized his Dad treated him more like a soldier in his unit than a son, and pretty much the only truly fatherly thing he ever did for him was trade his life for Dean’s. That was the only way he knew his Dad had ever really loved him. 

Mom helped catch him up on Dean’s new status quo, and he was even more horrified by his new job. “Angel of Death? Dean, tell me you’re joking.”

“No. It turns out I was well trained for the position.” As soon as it was out of Dean’s mouth, he regretted saying it. It was mean and bitchy, and now was not the time for it. As it was, his Dad grimaced slightly, but seemed to accept it. Good. Maybe with the benefit of hindsight, he had seen that too. 

He got them both caught up on how Sammy was doing, and they seemed relieved at least he was still alive, and Mom seemed particularly happy he had pretty much retired from hunting. She had never wanted them to be hunters. And he knew it killed her that Dean did nothing but hunt now. The fact that Dean was good with that didn’t seem to mitigate it in the least. 

Dean stayed with them a while, but eventually he had to go, because this made him sad. He couldn’t say why, except seeing his Mother always made him kind of sad. This was different, though. They loved him, yes, but he could tell they were also terrified for him, and that was something he didn’t need to know. He picked up enough of that from Sam. 

Once he left, he stood by himself for a moment in Heaven’s endless corridors, letting himself catch his breath and wipe away tears, and get back to feeling … well, not bereft. 

He was still gathering himself when a Reaper appeared before him. He knew this Reaper reasonably well. She was Lourdes, and she was fairly new. She preferred showing herself in the guise of a pretty Latina who couldn’t have been more than twenty three, with a pixie cut and wide brown eyes. She was adorable, and therefore not so threatening to the recently deceased. “Sir,” she said, briefly bowing her head as a sign of respect. “There’s an … issue that I feel needs your attention.”

Dean was genuinely glad for the distraction. “Of course. What is it?”

“It’s on Earth.”

“Lead the way.”

She teleported to Earth, and he followed her. They appeared in a house that looked vaguely familiar to him, and he sensed ghosts before he heard what sounded like glass breaking in a distant room. Considering the nature of the energy he was feeling, he guessed, “Poltergeist?”

Lourdes nodded. “You were specifically requested for help.”

“I was?”

“Hi Dean.” A familiar voice said. 

Dean turned, shocked for the second time today. “Kevin?” Kevin Tran, in ghost form, was suddenly standing in the archway that led deeper into the house. “Holy shit. How are you?”

“Still dead,” he said, with a faint smile. “And I see you have a new gig.”

He gestured to the skeletal outlines of the bony wings sprouting from his back, that Kevin could probably see since he was a ghost. It was nearly impossible to hide your true nature from a ghost. “Yeah. Mild upgrade.” He heard more glass breaking in another room, and suddenly he knew what had happened. “Your mother’s gone total vengeful spirit, hasn’t she?”

Kevin sighed, and looked both disappointed and embarrassed. “I tried to keep her from going crazy. But … you know, being a ghost kind of sucks.”

“I know. You don’t have to be anymore.”

“Do you hafta burn the ring?”

“I’m Death. I don’t have to do anything but will it.”

Kevin seemed uncertain, and he didn’t blame him. He’d failed him once before. But then there was a distant thud, like a piece of furniture hitting the wall, and Kevin asked, “What’s Heaven like?”

“It’s good. You’ll like it. Hell, you’re a former Prophet. You’ll probably get a VIP suite.”

He smiled faintly. He was still scared, but he was trying to be brave. He was a good kid. He shouldn’t have died so young. “Sounds great to me. Can you … it’ll be painless, right?”

“I guarantee it. It’s just like stepping through a door.” Ghosts were beyond physical pain. They only felt the psychological, emotional, and psychic variety, which Dean felt was worse most of the time. 

There was an angry shriek, and the sound of more things breaking. Dean could feel the energy like jagged black shards piercing the veil. Linda Tran was in a bad way, and it was nobody’s fault. That just happened to ghosts over time, as Bobby could have told her. “Let’s get your Mom, and then we’ll go. I’ll give you the tour.”

Not that he actually could. But it was a comforting thought, and after all they’d been through, he owed Kevin at least that much. 


	4. Close

_** 4 – Close ** _

Dean decided to let Kevin settle into his Heaven – whatever it was – before he visited him again. He was kind of curious what it would be. Since he was a quiet, nerdy kid, it would either be very calm and sedate, or it would be massively fucked up, as that was usually how these things went. Yeah, it was a cliché, but for a very good reason. 

He entered Bobby’s Heaven once more, in time to hear laughter. He knew who it was before he entered the living room to find Bobby sitting in his favorite chair with a glass of whiskey, and Cass sitting on the couch in a very casual manner. “Hey Dean,” Cass said, raising a hand to him, smiling like he was stoned. He wasn’t. This was just new Archangel Cass, who was so laid back and relaxed, you’d think he was smoking pot constantly. 

Archangel Cass also radiated calm and peace, to the point where being around him made you feel good. Whereas Dean came through Ascension relatively unchanged, save for being an Angel of Death now, Cass came back with a new set of wings, and a new attitude. He was still Cass, he was just … happy. It was like he was finally at peace with himself, like all his doubt and pain were gone. Dean kind of envied that, although he shuddered to think of himself ever going so hippy dippy. “Did I miss something?” 

“Naw, we were just reminiscing about the near Apocalypse,” Bobby said. And he was serious. 

“At the time, it was so dire,” Cass said, with a lopsided grin. “But looking back on it, a lot of it was pretty funny.”

“Yeah, the end of the world’s a laugh riot.” He wondered how much Bobby had had to drink today.

Bobby smirked. “Grumpy.”

“He’s always grumpy,” Cass said. “It’s his thing.”

“Tell me about it,” Bobby agreed. “You shoulda seen him as a teenager. He was fourteen going on forty. I expected him to get up one morning and start complaining about his sciatica.”

“Hey, I’m right here,” Dean complained. Maybe Bobby’s giddiness was spurred by proximity to Cass. He could do that now, without meaning to. Dean sat on the couch, as far away from him as possible, but even he felt better, the tightness in his shoulders starting to unravel. This was an improvement over the older Archangels, who were the biggest bags of dicks imaginable, but it was still strange. “By the way, in case you were curious, Gabriel’s still alive.”

Cass just nodded, smiling faintly. “I assumed. He’s faked his death about … fifty three times now, if I’m not missing one. He can hide from Heaven better than anyone I’ve ever met. Next time I see him, I have to get him to tell me his secret.”

Just out of curiosity, Dean had to ask, “Does he have a beach house?”

Cass considered that a moment, then shrugged. “Don’t know. Wouldn’t surprise me if he did. He always wanted to learn to surf.”

“What?” Was this Cass making a joke? He did that now. Not often, as he was still getting the hang of humor, but he seemed to have a better grasp of it now. 

“I know, seems silly, right? But he always wanted to. I was the only one who didn’t make fun of him for it.”

“Why not?”

“I never equated something Human with being something bad. A lot of angels used to. Some still do.”

Cass and his soft touch for humanity. In its way, it was sweet. And strange. Kind of like him. “So what’s this fight were going into?”

Cass sat forward, his expression mellowing to one that was pensive. That was about as serious as he got nowadays. “Right. Usually it’s a big thing, taking a couple of garrisons of angels up against the god incursion, but I figured with you here, there was no need to get that messy. We could just go over to their dimension, destroy the focal point, and get back. They need the focal point to open a dimensional rift, and without it, they’re stuck.”

“You couldn’t have done it before?”

“There are some big time death gods over there. Yama, Asto Vidatu, and Aesma Daeva are the ones to worry about. They can do some harm to regular angels. But you being an Angel of Death cancel their powers out. I figured you and me should be just strong enough to take care of things without putting others in harm’s way.”

Dean had heard of none of these gods. Cass could have been making them up. But Bobby said, “Yama, the Hindu death god? That one’s real?”

Cass nodded. “Nasty piece of work.Last fight, he started dismembering angels for the sport of it. He could have killed them, but he didn’t want to. Corpses don’t scream.”

Wow. Yeah, he sounded like a total dickbag. “What’s a focal point?” 

“It’s an apparatus that allows the gods to channel their energy into a single point, capable of ripping between the dimensional layers we put in as a barricade. That will be our biggest issue, figuring out what it is and destroying it, but it should give itself away with its incredible energy signature. It could be a tower, a cathedral, a forest, a mountain.”

“A mountain?” Bobby repeated, giving Dean a warning look. It sounded like something way too big and cosmic for him to take on.

Except, no, that wasn’t true anymore. He sometimes forgot, because Cass was helping him filter out so much of the overwhelming stuff, but Dean was on the cosmic level now. He was Death. He was everywhere. He just nodded, looking at Cass and realizing he didn’t actually feel strange about any of this. Cass was his best friend, and had saved his life too many times to count. If he was crazy and stupid enough to love him, he should just accept it and move on. Although you’d think a being as old as Cass would’ve had better sense than to love such a sad, broken example of humanity. There were better people surely more worthy of it. 

Sammy was right about all of it. Of course Dean knew, had known that the bond he had with Cass was oddly intense. But he was a good Winchester, and he compartmentalized what he really didn’t want to deal with. He didn’t want to know that Cass probably loved him, he didn’t know how to handle that, so he boxed it up and shoved it away, and decided he’d just never acknowledge it. Dean had denial down to an art. How else had he survived his unwelcome Hell memories? Just put them away, lock them down, and pretend they aren’t there. If they’re not there, they can’t hurt you. (Which was bullshit, but he preferred to pretend it wasn’t.) It was stupid when he was Human, and it was even stupider now that he was Death. He saw through people’s shit; he saw all the lies they told themselves. You couldn’t cheat Death, but you also couldn’t lie to it either. He could see his own lies if he dared to look in a mirror. 

But it wasn’t just a death thing, it was an angel thing. So what that meant was Cass never bought his shit; Cass always knew how fucked up he was inside. How could anyone love that? That was just baffling to him. He honestly wasn’t sure how anybody even liked him half the time. 

“Can I kill it?” Dean wondered. It was an inanimate object, therefore not alive, but sometimes with gods the line got really weird. 

Cass shrugged. “Depends on what it is. But we should be able to destroy it regardless.”

“Awesome. I’m ready to go when you are.”

“Dean,” Bobby said warningly. He hadn’t quite adjusted to the new status quo yet. 

Cass got to his feet, still smiling. He did that a lot nowadays. “Then let’s go. It may get a little hairy, but I have a feeling that’s only going to encourage you.”

“Damn right it is.”

Bobby sighed heavily, and looked at Cass. “Get his fool ass back in one piece.” And Dean knew that Bobby also knew how Cass felt about him Goddamn it! Did everybody know? Of course, that answer was most likely yes. And they probably all figured it out like Sam, months before Dean even twigged to the possibility of it. Damn it. He really didn’t think he was _that_ dumb. 

“Will do,” Cass replied. 

“I’ve never jumped dimensions before,” Dean admitted, standing up. “I assume it’s different than folding space?”

“Not much different, just a little more non-Euclidian. Kind of Riemannian.” Cass said. As if Dean knew what the fuck he was talking about. “Keep in mind, the second we show up, they’ll be aware of us.”

“And attack.”

“Most likely.”

Dean pulled the hand scythe off his belt and held it at the ready. “Cool. Let’s go.”

Cass nodded, and Bobby gave him a very concerned stare. “Good luck.”

“We won’t need it,” Cass said confidently. He grabbed Dean’s arm, and space twisted around them. 

Dean was aware he wasn’t where he had been not only by the change of scenery, but by the ambient energy signature. It was different here, a little more erratic. Otherwise he could have been on a mountainous hillside somewhere on Earth. The sky was a little yellowish, but that could happen.

They both looked around, and instantly located the focal point about four clicks away, farther up the hillside. It looked like some variation of Stonehenge, a semi-circle of stone slabs arranged in an arcane pattern. They had fought together enough that all they had to do was look at each other and nod. Cass was going to approach from the higher elevation, and Dean would do that from here. They sensed protection of some sort around it, but it would not hold.

Dean also sensed a whole bunch of shit simultaneously. For instance, this world had some animal life, but mostly plant and insect life. No higher mammals, just gods that were rapidly closing in on their location. 

Dean always felt this coiled black energy in him, death itself, and as he started up the hillside, he let it out. With each footstep, death radiated outward. The grass browned instantly, and plants died in a growing shockwave around him. He was putting out a message loud and clear, wanting to pull the death gods from Cass. Besides, wasn’t it time he met some relatives? An Angel of Death didn’t have too many peers.

He felt the shift in energy, someone stepping out of a rift in front of him, and Dean was already swinging the scythe before they emerged. The second they did – an ugly bastard with green scaled skin like a lizard, and a snout more wolf like than reptilian – he buried the curved blade in its long, slender neck. Its yellow eyes bugged out, and Dean grinned. “Hi. Nice to meet you.” He then pulled the scythe all the way through, taking its head clean off. It probably wouldn’t kill a death god, but it just had to put a crimp in their day. 

He sensed a surge of energy coming his way, and Dean met the surge with one of his own. Death energy crashed together, and he could feel it all the way into his bones. Which no longer existed. Still, it was hitting him at his core. It didn’t hurt; far from it. It felt like he’d just done a bunch of uppers. He was wired and ready to go. 

Suddenly there were two death gods in front of him, and he felt a sword bury itself in his gut. It was funny, because it was only mildly annoying. He slashed down with his scythe and cleaved their face in half. 

When he swung the blade over to catch the other one, that death god had his own sword and the blades clanged as they came together. He tried to knock the scythe out of his hand, but Dean wasn’t about to let that happen. 

The amount of energy being expended was incredible. Cass had to be fighting three or four gods of differing power ranges, and occasionally they’d impact and make the whole ground shake. Dean still had the sword in his gut, but he was absorbing the death energy around him. He wasn’t weakening; he was powering up. As soon as he got the chance, Dean ripped the sword out of his own stomach and tossed it away. He didn’t bleed. Then again, he wasn’t really a physical form anymore. Had its perks. 

His death god foe finally figured that out, but by then their sword versus scythe battle had forced the god farther down the hill. As the god pushed in, Dean kicked him in the stomach and sent him flying backwards. The one with half a face tackled Dean and brought him down, but Dean punched him in the face and kicked him off. He had a feeling they weren’t prepared for another death wielder. 

He looked up the hill to see how Cass was doing, and he saw Cass was facing off against a gigantic thing with two heads that seemed to want to squash him like a bug. But Cass was wielding an actual flaming sword, which was fucking cool, and which Dean had never seen before. Did all Archangels get those too? Lucky bastards. 

It took them about ten minutes to carve up enough gods to bust through the protections on the mock Stonehenge. And while Dean wasn’t technically “reaping” any of these gods (he couldn’t kill them; he was certain Cass couldn’t actually either), he dismembered them, and they were going to have to put themselves back together again, which felt enough like a win to count. 

Once inside the focal point, Cass started slicing through the rock slabs with his flaming sword, and Dean just started messing shit up, both with his scythe and with the equivalent of his physical form, throwing himself into the stones like he was attempting to slam dance with them. He felt the death energy of this place and tapped into it, mentally shoving the energy outward and crumbling the ground beneath the stone, killing off whatever life it had ever had. He didn’t know how he was actually doing it. It was autonomic, something that was somehow muscle memory even though it was new. 

Dean had killed enough of the ground that a pit started opening up beneath it, and Cass had reduced everything to smoldering chunks by the time more gods showed to take them on. One was almost Chrysler building tall. Dean couldn’t see its face, as it was obscured by clouds. Cass apparently thought that was a fine time to leave, as he grabbed Dean’s arm, and space twisted around them once more. 

They appeared in Bobby’s Heaven again, bright green ichor still dripping from Dean’s scythe, and Cass still bleeding from the nose. His sword was gone, or at least put away. “What happened?” Bobby asked. 

“We kicked their ass,” Dean said.

Bobby tilted his head skeptically. “You were gone like a second.”

Cass wiped the blood off his face with the back of his hand. “It was a lot longer on the other side.”

They had one more drink with Bobby, and took a moment to catch their breath, before heading off to give Hannah a status report. Cass imagined she’d be pleased at the speed of the resolution. “But that’s why I thought bringing you along was a good idea,” Cass said, as they walked the twisty corridors of Heaven. “You’re not only a messenger of Death. You’re a great fighter.”

While Dean was happy with the ego polishing, he realized he had to say something. He stopped, and said, “Um, Cass ..?”

Cass stopped and turned back to him. “Yes?”

What was he going to say? What did he want to say? He really should have considered this before he spoke. Now he was at a bit of a loss. What wouldn’t sound ridiculously weird? “Have I ever … thanked you? For everything.”

Cass looked briefly puzzled. “What for?”

Yes, good question. But to his own surprise, he knew the answer. “For never giving up on me, even when I gave up on myself.”

Cass smiled faintly. “That was always your problem, Dean. You gave up on yourself faster than anyone else. I never understood why you had so much self-loathing. Your standards for yourself were impossibly high.”

Dean wasn’t sure that was true … except, angel. He saw straight through him, like he was made of glass. “I don’t understand why you always stuck by me. There are better people in the world. Hell, Sam’s better than me.”

He shook his head. “He isn’t. He’s different than you, that’s all. Comparing people on relative merits and worth is a spectacular waste of time.”

“Dude, how many times did I almost get you killed? And when the Mark of Cain took me over ... shit, did I ever apologize for that?”

“You don’t need to. That wasn’t you.”

He had an answer for everything, didn’t he? Dean chuckled faintly, rubbing his forehead. He was just going to have to ask, wasn’t he? Finally, he did. “Why me?” Dean knew he didn’t need to clarify what he meant at all. Cass would know. He knew everything else, right?

Cass’s look was remarkably kind, full of grace and forgiveness, which was what you’d hope to find in an angel. And which you generally didn’t.Cass was just a misfit angel, as much as Dean had been a misfit Human. Maybe that was their natural grounding point. “Why not you?” At Dean’s baffled look – what the hell kind of answer was that? - he continued. “Do you know there’s a group of angels who blame my corruption on you? They feel the second I saved you from Hell was the second I became contaminated beyond the telling of it. That the less angels interact with Humans the better because they degrade us, make us weak. And there was a small portion of time when I wondered if you had inadvertently destroyed me. I did want to blame my downfall, my craziness, on being with you and Sam. But I eventually came to the conclusion that when I saved you, I saved myself as well.”

Dean was doing his best to comprehend this, but he simply wasn’t. “Huh?” He often forgot that the pretty, nerdy guy he saw before him wasn’t actually Castiel. He was a guise, something that made interaction with the world easier. Actual Cass was an energy form that Dean could now see out of the corner of his eye when he wanted to, something vast and incandescent and so ancient Dean actually couldn’t grasp his age any more than he could grasp the true nature of the universe. Cass was an ancient, powerful creature, and he would never truly understand him. 

“We angels spend our lives in little boxes, but we are unaware they are boxes. We observe humanity, we look down on you in more ways than one. Nothing you do makes any sense to us, and we think you are trapped in your own self-imposed prisons, while being blissfully unaware that we too are trapped. We have our duty, our rules, and we follow them. Asking why is blasphemy, and we fall in line like good little soldiers. We don’t see this as the confinement it is. We tell ourselves we’re special, we have a duty, and duty is all. But we fail to see how empty that is, how sterile and colorless our lives are. What good is being eternal if you never live even once?Truth be told, Dean, you’ve hurt me, you’ve broken my heart, you’ve failed me and betrayed me. You’ve made me angrier and sadder than I ever thought I was capable of feeling.” Cass clapped him on the shoulder, and gave him a grin. “And it was fucking amazing. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

Dean was trying really hard to get this. He thought he sort of got the gist of what he meant, but on the other hand … nope. Not a clue. “Uh, Cass ... I’m even more confused.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I’m probably not explaining it well. Besides, you’ve always been Human – well, before becoming Death. You don’t know what it used to be like to be an angel. Let’s just say you destroyed my entire world, Dean, and there’s no greater thing you ever could have done for me.”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t get this at all.” He hated feeling so stupid, but apparently this was his day for it. He tried to think of something to say, and found himself scrambling for words. “You’re a very complicated guy.”

Cass kept giving him that giddy grin, like this was all a punch line only he understood. And that was more than possible. “Takes one to know one.”

He was such a weirdo. Figured he’d be his friend. Dean only seemed to feel at home among the strange. 


	5. Strange Hours

_**5 – Strange Hours** _

 

 

Dean hadn’t known what to expect when he walked through the doorway, but somehow he had not really been expecting this.

 

He found himself in a park at night, and from the fireworks exploding over the lake, he assumed it was the fourth of July. There was an amphitheater, and there was a classical orchestra playing … something. Dean just didn’t know classical music. There were lots of people on the wide, plush lawn of the park, sitting on blankets or lawn chairs, watching the fireworks and listening to the music. Dean cut through the crowd, which didn’t really notice him, until he found a familiar face.

 

Kevin was reclined on a beach towel, hands folded behind his head, looking up at the sky. He seemed mildly surprised when he saw Dean. “Hey.”

 

“Hey.” Dean crouched down, scanning the crowd. “So, this is your heaven?”

 

“I guess so. Weird, right? I barely remembered this night.”

 

The music was soothing, and washed out some of the noise of the fireworks. The night was temperate, neither hot or too cool. It wasn’t terrible. “It’s nice.”

 

Kevin shrugged. “I got time off from my Mom, from school, from everything. It was a break from life. Of course, this was before I became a Prophet and my life was totally destroyed.”

 

“Which makes it extra great.”

 

He nodded, his expression pensive. “Did you ever find out what your heaven would be?”

 

Dean considered that a moment. “It would be really sad. Probably me working on the Impala.” Or worse yet, him back in Purgatory, doing nothing but killing monsters all day. The possibility that that one might come up really bothered him. At least now he never had to face that. (But of course, Cass would be with him there too. One of these days, Dean was going to deal with his feelings. But that day was not today.)

 

Kevin stared at him, grimacing in an attempt not to laugh. “Dude, that’s fucking sad.”

 

“I told you it would be.”

 

Kevin propped himself up on his elbows, and looked at the orchestra for a moment. “Do you think I could get up there and replace the cello player?”

 

There was something delightfully innocent and dorky about this kid. Even after all the hell – sometimes literal – he went through, he still had this air about him that nothing could touch him. Dean envied it. “It’s your heaven. I don’t see why not.”

 

“Cool.” He sat up, but made no move to approach the stage yet. “So you’re Death like, forever?”

 

Dean shrugged. “Unless I get killed or replaced, yeah.”

 

“Is that kind of … I dunno, lonely?”

 

“Not really. Most of my friends and family are up here already.” Which was so fucking sad, but hey, death got everyone in the end. Dean didn’t like to think about when the time came and he’d have to go collect Sam or Charlie, or anyone else he knew and liked that were still alive. Of course he didn’t have to do that, he had reapers for that, but he felt he owed it to them to go in person, and let them know their time was over. He’d gotten Kevin and Mrs. Tran, hadn’t he? Even though he was kind of hoping he’d never have to get them, that they could make their ghost lives work … even though it had yet to work for anybody else ever. Again, hope died last.

 

Kevin seemed to accept that. “And you got Castiel. By the way, congrats on that.”

 

That was baffling. “Congrats on what?”

 

“I always knew you two would get together eventually. I mean, if you got over yourself. You were always so butch, so fronting, man. It’s 2015. Be yourself, who cares?”

 

Dean stared at him. “You thought … what the hell did you think of me?”

 

It was Kevin’s turn to stare back. “That you and Cass had a thing. I mean, clearly, you guys had a thing, and Sam was pretending not to notice, right?”

 

Dean briefly considered getting angry, but then he shook his head. “Holy shit. Does _everybody_ think this?”

 

Kevin either didn’t pick up on his disapproval, or ignored it. “You guys weren’t exactly subtle.”

 

Dean sighed, and decided to just let the dead guy have this. Why argue again? But he couldn’t help but wonder what had Cass done to his image.

 

Wait a sec. When did he care about his image? Especially since he was now Death, and could kick everybody’s ass just by showing up. Stupid. These all seemed like Human problems, and he had to stop thinking with a Human mindset. Didn’t apply anymore.

 

An alert popped up in Dean’s awareness, and he sighed, because it was ugly. An entire family – mom, dad, son – had turned up dead thirty one years, eight years, and fifty three years ahead of time, respectively. Some demon had just fucked up in a major way.

 

He clapped Kevin on the shoulder. “Go up there and knock ‘em dead, kid.”

 

He grinned. “It’s my heaven, right? Even if I suck, they have to clap.”

 

“That’s the spirit.” Dean had thought about visiting Mrs. Tran, a/k/a Linda, because he had liked her. She was protective of her son, and had more guts than most people he’d encountered, but he didn’t really know if she’d want to see him. She probably hated him for not protecting her son enough. And he had to give her that. She was right. So he was giving her her space. But maybe someday he could apologize to her, and she wouldn’t try to kill him.

 

Dean had meant to materialize back on Earth, but suddenly he was in Heaven’s corridors, and the reason for that, Cass, was standing right in front of him. “You’re going down to Earth again? Dean –“

 

“An entire family, Cass,” he interrupted. “A young family. The kid was four. Hell yeah I’m going to Earth, and I’m gonna make that demon eat his own fucking entrails before he dies.”

 

Cass looked taken aback. There were some injustices it was just impossible to ignore, and Cass had the most heart of any angel he knew. He wouldn’t turn his back on this. “I didn’t know.”

 

“Wanna come with me?”

 

He thought about it for maybe a second. “Yeah, let’s go.”

 

If Dean was breaking some of Heaven’s rules, at least he wasn’t breaking them alone. Honestly, he couldn’t have asked for anything more.

 

 

 

**

 

 

The End


End file.
